


A new, marvelous life

by ordinaryanna



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Avengers Tower, Cute Peter Parker, Domestic Avengers, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Irondad, Mental Health Issues, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Original Character(s), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stark Industries, Stark Tower, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinaryanna/pseuds/ordinaryanna
Summary: Sixteen year old Victoria grew up in very bad conditions due to her mother being a junkie and a prostitute. She practically lives on the streets and works as a hacker for a mafia in the Bronx. Right before she dies, her mother tells her about her father, whom she never mentioned. After learning it‘s Tony Stark, she can not escape his new-found dad responsibilities and slowly builds up a connection with him and gets to live in the Avenger‘s Tower. Slowly, the Avengers become her family and she even develops a romantic relationship with a cute guy named Peter Parker..TW: mentioned suicide, trauma, ptsd
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Clint Barton & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark & Thor, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Original Female Character(s), Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Everyone, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov & Original Female Character(s), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys :)  
> This is my first fan fiction on here and my first one in English, since it‘s my second language. PLEASE let me know if you find any mistakes!  
> Anna <3
> 
> (Especially big TW for the prologue)

With a loud creak, the more than battered apartment door opened before me. It wasn’t even locked, which was sadly more than often the case. In a neighborhood like this, that was not exactly the cleverest thing one could do. Immediately, the familiar smell of alcohol, mold and dirt rose to my nose and made me wanna gag, even though I thought to be used to it after all this time.  
I slammed the door loudly with some force behind me, because it wouldn’t close otherwise. This noise alone often wakes her up. „Mum? Are you there?“, I call into the small apartment. She had to be here, she had nowhere to be instead. The last time I was here, which was almost two weeks ago, I pulled myself once again together and at least tried to tidy and clean up a bit, but now everything was already full of cheap beer bottles and fast food rubbish, there were several alcohol stains as well as loads of dirt on the floor and the dust piled up on the little furniture she had. Once again. The only thing you’re not gonna find are drugs. Oh yeah, she consumes them as soon as she laid her hands on some, no matter which kind.  
On a shelf near the entrance, there were several letters, all unopened, probably again some sort of bills or reminders. I’ll had to care about how to pay them off later, I just wanted to look through them at first. Somebody had to pay the bills I guess, let alone the fact that I apparently was the only responsible person in this household. I tried to balance my way to the shelf without stepping on bottles or other disgusting stuff I wasn’t sure I wanted to now the content of. She should be given some kind of award for her ability of littering everything she touches so damn fast and intense. It literally hasn’t even been two weeks. This woman is incredible on a whole different level.  
She still hasn’t answered my calls, so I assumed she was sleeping off some worse intoxication than usually, which is also sadly rather common for her.  
I was more grateful than ever for my friends, who let me stay at their places sometimes and for the abandoned church that I had discovered months ago. I know, that didn’t exactly sound like a total banger at first, but it was mostly warm, at least warmer than the outside I guess. I bought myself some cheap blankets and pillows and found some old mats while dumpster diving, that were almost completely fine. But most importantly, I was not disturbed by the homeless or condemned and pityed by passers-by like I used to be. I mostly tried to spare money by searching in the dumpsters of an adjacent restaurant or supermarkets. It wasn’t a luxurious life, but it wasn’t that bad either. I got by, and that was all that mattered to me. Some had worse - my own mother was a pretty good example. I didn’t run off alcohol and drugs, so that’s a big plus I think.  
There was a time when I didn’t have to steal my food - before I found out about all of my mother’s debts. All of my already pretty little salary was on it nowadays. And since I was unable of staging an intervention for her (thanks to her asshole of pimp), she continued to spend money she didn’t have on drugs and, y‘know, drugs are not cheap.  
Sighing, I went through the letters. Four bills, two reminders, a threat from a more or less lovely cartel from the neighborhood I’d have to deal with later and - a folded piece of paper? Oh man, drug cartels these days really lost all of their class. It couldn’t have come in the mail, so I opened it curiously.

_For my daughter, Victoria._

I suddenly lost all of my breath. That wasn’t a threat - It was a letter. To me. From my mother. „Mum? Mum? What is this letter?“ I didn’t get an answer, so I kept on reading.

_You are probably wondering why I am writing this letter to you. I know I never really say it to you, but I love you. I love you a lot, actually. Infinite.  
Even if you weren‘t planned and turned my life completely upside down, you are still the best thing that has ever happened to me._

I slowly got a bad premonition, so I walked farther into the room, searching for her, while I kept reading.

_I want you to know that you‘re not the reason I‘m doing this. Actually, you are the only reason why I didn‘t do it much earlier. I wish I could have given you a better life and I am deeply ashamed of the circumstances you had to grow up in._

I no longer paid any attention to the bottles and litter I was walking trough. I didn‘t found her in the main room.

_I am so, so grateful for you always trying to cheer me up, helping me and even paying my bills. But none of it cured the sickness deep rooted in me._

I had no idea she was able to express herself like this. She must have been sober for the first time in years while writing this.  
She wasn‘t in the kitchen either.

_You have to promise me to make something out of your life. You‘re gifted - don‘t waste your talents trying to pay my debts. I debated a long time with myself if I should tell you, but there is no other option if you want to try to come out of this hell and be able to live a better life than the one I provided to you. I hate myself for don‘t telling you sooner, please believe me. Hiding from you that your father is Tony Stark is the biggest mistake of my life. You could have lived a nice life. At least in the last couple of years, I think he became a better man than the one I met seventeen years ago. A philanthropist is probably still a better parent than a junkie, right? At least you can go live with him now. Please do. Don’t do anything stupid. I‘m so sorry Tori. Please believe me.  
I love you,  
Mum_

What the hell? Did I just read that right? I mentally took that previous statement back, she had to be definitely on some really hard drugs if she was really trying to tell me that the whole time, my father was literally the richest man on earth while I stole food out of dumpsters to survive.  
I noticed tears falling down on the paper and soaking it. I knew what this was - what it meant - but I won‘t believe it. This was a goddamn farewell.  
I stood in front of the bathroom door and my heart was threatening to jump out of my chest. I couldn‘t prepare myself enough for what I saw the moment I turned the handle.  
My own mother, the person I loved and hated the most in the world, the woman that gave life to me, was floating lifeless in the with water filled, dirty tub, several needles sticking out of her arms. She was pale like the white tiles on the floor and I could see every blue vein under her skin. I found myself emotionless calling 911 while hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I know it was too late, but this couldn‘t be happening.  
I felt myself falling onto my knees next to the tub and holding her cold head in my hands. The feel of her skin was enough for me to get me out of my emotionless trance. My heart began hurting really bad and it felt like I couldn‘t get enough air to breath. It felt like my chest was being crushed and I let out a loud, harrowing scream until my throat hurt. „No. No.No! NOOO!“, I began sobbing and screaming. My hands were shaking and her head laid heavily on them. „No. No. Come back to me. Mum. Please.“ I kept on begging for her to come back to me until my voice was just a whisper. „Please..“, I said before I let her head fall into the water with a splash and broke down. I couldn‘t stop crying. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face in them. I screamed. I cried. And I screamed again for her to come back to me. I used the last of my energy to crawl inside the tub with her. The water flow over it‘s edges but I couldn‘t care less about that. The only thing I could perceive was the body of my death mother. I clinged to her as I pulled her onto my lap and laid her head onto my shoulder. My sobs began getting quieter with time and by the time the police offers arrived and tried tugging myself out of the tub as soft as possible, I completely fell silent and the only thing left I could feel was the shivering of my body. I felt empty. As if the world stopped turning and my soul went on vacation. My mind was empty. My heart was empty and it felt like I could never feel any kind of emotion again. I didn’t move, I couldn’t get my muscles to work. Instead, I kept staring onto the opposite wall and it took three officers to get me to let go of the body that was once Mum.  
And then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria deals with the aftermath of her mother‘s suicide
> 
> TW: trauma!, mentioned suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please let me know if you find any mistakes!  
> Have fun and let me know what you think :)

I wake up the next day. At least, I assume it was the next day since bright, blueish light blinded me the moment I openmy eyes. For a second, I‘m confused and my mind is peaceful until the memories all came back at once with an unbearable force.  
As if struck by lightning, I sit up in the quite uncomfortable bed I was laying in, which leads to my head spinning hurtfully, but that doesn‘t stop the thoughts from rushing through my mind. I don‘t even have the energy to instead look around in the room I‘m completely unfamiliar with, even though it‘s obviously an hospital room, given the light and furniture. My clothes and my hair is still damp, adding to the memories of last night.  
My mother committed suicide and left me completely alone. Why would she ever think that was somehow a good idea? My already shitty existence is now completely useless. I am useless. I have nobody left. Not a fricking soul. She was the only family I ever had, since her parents quickly abandoned her when they found out that she was pregnant with me at the age of only eighteen after an one night stand with my father, whom I never even met. My father was Tony Stark. Oh god, my father was for real Tony Stark. She wouldn‘t lie to me about that. It also kind of explains a lot of things, since I’m actually too smart for my own good, like my mother used to say. Don’t get me wrong, she was not dumb, but.. just not clever. Fuck, my father is the Tony Stark.I chuckle humorlessly and shake my head. She didn‘t really think I would just move on and live with a complete stranger from now on?! Tony Stark is the reason of my mother‘s dead. I would never want to have anything to do with him, and I‘m pretty sure he also doesn‘t want to do anything with me either. An unknown daughter probably would ruin his reputation and stuff I guess. I mean - the richest man in the world, and by the way, also a fucking Avenger, shouldn’t have fathered a sixteen year old daughter with a junkie he probably doesn’t even remember, right? I know that he also seems pretty happy with his fiancé, I would ruin his luck. So in conclusion, he probably would just give me some money and I really don‘t want that. I don‘t need no ones help. I can pay those bills by myself and just keep my job forever. That is fine. Better than being pitied by a stranger. Anyway, I never even had a chance of the good education that I always dreamt of. There is not a slightly chance that I would even speak to the man that led to all of this. If he wouldn‘t have had, I guess unprotected, intercourse with a woman he barely knew seventeen years ago, this particular woman wouldn‘t have gotten pregnant, kicked out and became a prostitute trying to feed her child, which in turn led to drug and alcohol abuse and, eventually, suicide.   
Loud voices outside of the old hospital room I was surprisingly alone in tear me suddenly away from my thoughts. As far as I could tell, they belong to police officers trying to talk to me and my attending doctor, who is of the opinion that I am not ready yet to be questioned. I agree with him, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. The word „trauma“ falls more often than I‘d want it to. I don‘t have a trauma, do I? Well, when I think about it - I still feel pretty.. empty and I guess that‘s what trauma‘s about, right? Oh fuck, I had a trauma. On the other hand, again nothing that I couldn‘t get over with.  
The door was opened loudly, to the obvious displeasure of the doctor, who quickly followed the two policemen. They look stressed, he looks angry. Oh lord, let this please be over with soon.  
One of the two, an older and shorter guy began questioning me without further ado, after he drew a notepad and a pencil out of their pockets. Kinda out of date if you ask me.  
„My condolences for your loss.“, he rattles down bored while going through his notepad.  
He isn‘t sorry. „Thanks sir.“ I have manners, at least.  
„Your..mother?“, he looks up and frowns slightly.  
„Yes.“   
He nods and writes something down. „Were you aware about her mental health issues?“  
„Yes, I was aware.“ I keep answering those questions monotone.  
He nods and goes on. „Were you aware of her several addictions?“  
Several? Is he tryna make me laugh? This woman had more addictions than I could count. „Yes.“  
„Were you aware of her job as a prostitute?“ He continues writing.  
And that her pimp abused her? „Yes.“  
„Were you aware that she was going to commit suicide?“  
I feel like I should feel something at those words. At least a bit of grief would be nice. Oh yeah I remember, the trauma and stuff. I bow my head. „No.“ I should‘ve known.  
The other policeman, who is a lot younger and almost a foot taller than the other one, surprisingly smiles encouragingly down at me and continues asking while the first one continues scrabbling down on his paper. Are they really trying to put off the good cop/ bad cop thing with me? Geez, I have a trauma, that does absolutely not work with me right now.  
„Did you live with your mother?“, he asks.  
In the last few years? Hardly. „Yes.“  
He nods and then pulls out a plastic bag containing the farewell of my own mother. Once again, no grief. As much as I am grateful for not having to feel this at the moment, I still want this to be over with fast. It sucks feeling so empty, it‘s indescribable. He hands the bag to me and goes on. „We confiscated that from the umm.. crime scene. We‘re done examining it, so we thought you‘d might wanna have it back.“ They read it? Fuck. Actually, I don‘t want to have this memory on the worst day of my life, but I don‘t want to leave it at the police either. „Thanks.“ I try to smile, I swear. I guess I just fail. Trauma and stuff. That is the worst thing about it. It‘s blocking all the sad emotions, but the good with it. Not that I actually want to smile, but I can‘t even fake it due to the current lack of expressions I‘m able to pull off. At least I can still think and, well, lie. As soon as I see the flash of real interest in his eyes, I know what he‘s about to ask me and I‘d groan loudly if it weren‘t that inappropriate and I could. „Is your father really Tony Stark?“ Oh dear lord, I knew it. Even his colleague looks up from his beloved notepad and the doctor looks absolutely shocked. „Yeah. Probably.“ The lack of emotion in my voice scares me, but there isn‘t really anything I feel inside my head either. Everything is monotone.  
I stopped listening to them after they started talking about how I‘m supposed to stay with my father now and so on. I got interested again tho when they asked me wether they should contact them or whether I wanted to do it myself. I‘m aware that in this neighborhood, the policemen are constantly stressed and the youth welfare office is constantly overworked, as much as they‘d probably love to be able to inform the famous Mr. Stark about his unwanted daughter. They reasoned that since I was sixteen years old, I was certainly mature enough for telling him myself. What a great excuse, but I don‘t argue with them and accept the offer gratefully. Or at least, I should be grateful. In fact, that is absolutely perfect since I will never have to see or talk to him. I‘ll just head back to my church and let them believe it‘s actually a penthouse that I‘d continue living in. I manage to make ends meet on my own, I do not need Anthony Stark to live.

I released myself from the hospital after the men left, to a even much bigger displeasure to the doctor. He constantly mentioned that I‘m underage blah blah. Yeah, I know that, but I have work to attend and what are you gonna do anyways, talk to me? Would‘ve been funny without the goddamn trauma.  
A quick glance at a clock outside of the rundown hospital near a busy street tells me that I still had enough time to stop at the apartment and the church before heading to work. Fortunately, I know where I currently am. One of the perks living on the streets. I know every single alley in the whole Bronx by heart. It doesn‘t take me too long to the apartment I once used to live in, but never once called it my home. The door is locked with a police wax seal and there‘s a police notice taped to the door. I don‘t smoke - I‘m not dumb -, but I always carry around a lighter with me. You never know when it might come handy, like it is now. I quickly remove the wax seal by carefully holding up the flame to its back until I‘m able to open the door without breaking it.  
I have to hurry before anyone sees me here, or I‘d make contact with the police again and they wouldn‘t let me inform Stark by myself anymore.   
I stepp in and I would definitely feel some sad stuff if I wouldn‘t have - you known the drill. Everything in here reminds me of her - the litter, the furniture, especially the few photos laying on some of the shelves. I stop at one. It definitely brings back some good memories, but my brain just continues feeling empty. Y‘know, it has not always been this way. There was a time when I was younger when she had an actual job that she already had before getting me. She was allowed to continued working there, but it was nothing special and gave her no real experiences, so after the company went bankrupt, she couldn‘t find a new one because no one wanted to hire an inexperienced, young and single mother. In turn, there were unpaid bills and a baby who wanted to be fed left. And so one bad thing led to another and soon she was earning a living by working as a prostitute, but it broke her and soon enough, she became a wreck.  
Shaking the thoughts of her off, I stuff the photo with others into my large shoulder bag that I recently found. I put in a few more pills, a blanket, clothes, ID cards, the mail and my mother‘s few savings she probably forgot about (they wouldn‘t exist anymore otherwise). I try melting the wax seal on again and hesitate at the door afterwards. I go on with a brisk step, unerringly.   
A new chapter in my life begins and I can‘t afford looking back any more.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Online school is really stressful atm, but I promise I‘ll try to post as often as possible! I finally did the last story outlining a few days ago and I can‘t wait to show y‘all
> 
> As always, please remind me of mistakes and feel welcome to leave some feedback. Have fun! :)

The rest of the day feels like a fever dream. It feels never ending but at the same time, it goes by way too fast. At least I can bury myself into work, but the distraction isn‘t permanent. I catch myself way too often staring at a wall, not sure how much time has passed by in the meantime.

I never knew one could feel so empty and hopeless. Of course I know better, but it does feel meanwhile like it‘ll never end. Like I‘d never be capable of feeling again. Once again, I catch myself staring into nothing, my head completely empty. My mound is slightly opened, my face is limp and I blink slowly. I try shaking this weird behavior off and turn to my right to look at the clock. It‘s almost three in the morning. I sigh, realizing I‘d probably not get any more work done. I mean, I can be weird all by myself in the church, I don’t have to be here for this. I grab my phone, which is the only valuable thing I own. It‘s a cheap one, but I managed to grade it up a little in my ‚office‘. It gets the work done and I‘m able to charge it here. 

While I’m walking past the familiar security guards in the hallway, I notice that I’ve never been this late in the building. It’s a repurposed warehouse in the middle of the south Bronx with tons of security. The organisation I work for disguises itself as an IT-company. Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure that the only reason it‘s not busted yet is because they have connections and men in high places. Additionally, it’s not a big secret that especially the NYPD is full of corrupt policemen and politicians. What a sick world we‘re living in. Well, I shouldn‘t complain since the mafia literally keeps my head above water.

Most of the work here is done during night time, but I normally leave around midnight since I don‘t wanna be a witness of some kind. I really don‘t want to be involved in more illegal affairs than I already am. I come across three men in really expensive looking suits. I notice them instantly. Why are they here? These people are literally some of the most powerful men in this particular organisation. They seem to have a heated conversation, but immediately interrupt it after noticing me. I walk past them and greet them with a nod, which they return, not without watching me closely with narrowed eyes. I don‘t notice my fast heartbeat until I‘m stepping out of the entrance and onto the side street it leads to. Even though I’ve been living in this area for over sixteen years, I never become less anxious as a young woman walking the streets alone, especially when I come across a group of guys. And these were literal mafia bosses. There wouldn‘t be any consequences for them, they can do what they want. I clench my fists as soon as I‘m noticing the little shiver that runs through them.  
I swallow hard and try not to think about it anymore, which is hard since I‘m walking for over half an hour to my current accommodation.

I‘m on the road for almost twenty minutes and just came out of the gas station’s toilet when police cars rush right past me, their familiar sirens ringing in my ears and their blue lights blinding me.  
Scenes from two days ago suddenly appear vividly in front of my eyes. Me holding my dead mother, while police officers grab my arms. My whole body stiffens and my breath catches on. My legs feel like they‘re giving out any moment so I reach for the facade next to the sidewalk with my right arm. I collapse against it as all I can see is my death mother and it feels like I‘m set back to last night. Fuck, fuck, fuck, somebody please help me! I desperately pull my hair and hit the back of my head repeatedly against the rough stone wall.  
Hot tears well up in my eyes while the sirens slowly fade away into the distance.  
I don‘t know how long exactly I remain in that position, but my legs hurt after I finally stand up again and wipe the few tears angrily off my cheek. That shall never happen again. If just seeing the police cars caused this reaction to me, what else might make me even more weaker? I feel so powerless, like I can‘t control my own emotions solely based on my surroundings anymore.

I run my way back home. The cold november air brushes hurtful against my cheeks and dries the stains on my skin. My hair is blowing behind me and the cold air and my fast breathing soon make my throat hurt. But it distracts me from the flashbacks I just experienced. Somehow, running away from my problems works and clears my mind, if just for a short time. My soar muscles and my fast breath are worth the emptiness, the exact same one that I‘ve wanted to stop feeling just minutes ago. Now it‘s all I want for now.

As soon as I climb through a window next to the the blocked entrance (the church was a few years ago closed due to danger of collapse, but nothing has ever been done so far), tremors begin starting to shake my body, and I know that‘s not just because of the cold. Preferably, I would start running again if I wasn‘t feeling so damn drained, not because of my general lack of sleep.  
I close the window after I enter and the sudden silence is so overwhelming, that I almost break down again. I just want to sleep. To escape this reality even for a bit. But after I‘ve changed into my warm clothes, brushed my teeth over a bucket full of water and laid myself down under a ton of blankets, my thoughts still keep racing. It has gotten cold in New York and it’s gonna get a lot colder. But it‘s not the cold and my constant shivers that keep me awake. No, it’s that every time I close my eyes, I see her image. Every single time.

I finally fall asleep when the first sun rays already shine through the tall, colorful windows of this little church, which means it’s pretty late, because, keep in mind, it’s november. Fuck trauma. I do not sleep long, because the second I drift off into sleep, I dream about it. About everything. I see her climbing into the bathtub and preparing the needles. I stand in the doorframe of the bathroom and I want to stop her, to run to her, to rip those deadly drugs out of her hands, to drag her out of the tub, but no matter how much I try to move, my feet keep sticking to the ground and no matter how loud I call for her, she doesn‘t hear me.  
I wake up screaming, fully covered in sweat. My throat hurts and my legs are shaking. I pick up my phone and look at the clock. It couldn‘t even been two hours. Fuck trauma.

And then I realize that not Tony Stark, but I, killed my own mother. It‘s all my fault. If I would‘ve come just about half an hour earlier, this all wouldn‘t have happen. It‘s my birth that caused this. I should‘ve supported her more. I should’ve visited her more. I should‘ve tried harder to stage an intervention for her. I should‘ve argued more with her pimp. I should‘ve taken away all the alcohol and drugs. I should‘ve been there for her. I should’ve known about her mental state and talk to her about it. I should‘ve told her that I loved her. How much I loved her. That she was the only one I ever had. I never said nor did this things. I am a murderer.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think below please!


End file.
